Christmas In Purgatory
by mierin-lanfear
Summary: [One shot TS side story] Spending the holidays with the Holmes brothers reveals a dark secret to Vera.


_(A/N: This is a side-story for TS--more of a long drabble. In earlier chapters, it was mentioned that Vera spent the Christmas with the Holmes brothers. Was it a happy visit?)

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**Christmas In Purgatory**  
(_A Truthseekers' Side Story_)  
_by mierin-lanfear_

"My grandmére murdered my father," Holmes said simply.

The cavernous dining hall echoed with his words, amplifying the bitterness in his voice. He gave a level stare at Mycroft and Vera, then glanced at the Vernet matriarch. "Right before my eyes. I cannot possibly forget that."

Madame Vernet dropped her dinner knife, which clattered against the white bone-china plate. Her knuckles were as white as the dinnerware, as she clenched her frail, bony hands.

Vera exchanged a dismayed look at Mycroft, who remained staring at his half-empty plate. His massive head shook slowly, like a badly-wound up pendulum. Ashamed, she looked away, her lowered dark lashes hiding her intense agitation.

"I really wasn't expecting this..." she thought. "God, what an awful moment!"

A squeaking sound broke the tense silence. As she raised her head, Vera saw that the seat across her was empty. "Holmes?"

Mycroft said, "No, Vera, leave him be." He laid a hand on Vera's trembling one--it felt cold and clammy, quite unusual for a man of his size.

She looked back at Madame Vernet--she bent down her regal, silvery head, weeping softly. Disengaging her hand from Mycroft's cold paw, she reached out to the matriarch, touching her shoulder briefly.

"Madame..."

The elderly lady glanced up at Vera, grey eyes clouded with age and tears. "Ma chérie, it's my fault, yes. And the dear child still blames me for it."

Vera shook her head. "You have your reasons..."

"He killed Violette...it was a bad marriage, ma chérie. They had a violent quarrel in front of the children and me... He struck her on the with a candlestick. I was blind with anger...how could he raise a hand against my daughter? His revolver was on the floor..."

Vera raised a finger to her lips. "No more, please...there is no need..." She got up, heavy skirts swirling around her. "I'll go look for him."

Mycroft cleared his throat. "No, Vera. He needs to be alone."

She ignored his reply. "Where is he?"

He sighed, leaning back against the heavy carved chair and closing his eyes. "I heard the front door slam moments ago...if you're thinking about following him through the snow, I'd suggest..."

As he opened his eyes, Vera was gone.

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Vera trudged through the ankle-deep snowdrifts, wrapping her wool mantle tighter around her. The cold winter wind whipped her unpinned black hair away from her face, now pale except for bright spots on her nose and cheeks. 

She scanned the long copse of trees, which marked the borders of the estate. Their frosted skeletal branches stood stark naked against the black night sky.

"He can't go beyond there, in this weather..." she said to herself, inching herself closer to the border. "How far is it from the manor? A mile? Two?" Another cold blast--from the North, she assumed--buffeted her, the icy air penetrating her clothes and freezing her sweat.

Cupping her mittened hands, Vera yelled, "Coeeee! Holmes! Where are you?" A fit of shivering hit her--she crumpled down to the snowy ground, burying her bare head with her mantle.

Her thoughts raced. "Must go back...too cold, too cold! That bastard...damned wrong-headed to leave like this..." She gave a sharp intake of breath, the cold air freezing her windpipe.

She coughed, wrapping herself up in a tight ball as the spasms became violent. The chill was getting into her.

Vera did not notice a long shadow enveloping her curled-up form.

"Get up, Vera, if you don't want to freeze to death."

She uncovered her head and looked up at the thin austere form of Holmes gazing down at her. "Where in the world have you been, you bastard?" she hissed, her teeth chattering as she spoke.

His lips drawn into a thin line, he bent down and lifted her back to her feet. "Out."

"A fat lot I know about that, Holmes." She dusted away the clumps of snow on her mantle, avoiding his eyes.

"You should have stayed back there. A snow storm is coming."

"You should follow your own advice, then! It's freezing out here!" Her green eyes were defiant as she finally looked at Holmes. But her look softened into concern and fear as she saw the way he clenched his jaw, the way his sinews on his neck stretched out in tension. His grey eyes looked distant, away from her.

Her voice came out tentative. "Let's go home, Holmes, please..." She took his gloved hand, rough knitted wool scraping against the worn leather. "If you want, let's go back to London."

He relaxed a little, sighing. "I should not have come back here. Not with you. I'm sorry, Vera." He squeezed her hand--she felt her fingers squirm as little warmth was transferred from his touch.

"We all have our demons to face, Holmes." Her long black hair fell on her face, hiding her troubled expression. She tossed it back. "You aren't angry at Grandmére?"

"Confused, yes. Angry, no...yes." He started to walk back towards the manor with her, holding her hand. "I don't want to face this part of my past. Grant me Heaven or Hell, but not Purgatory." He pointed at the manor with their interlocked hands. "That is my Purgatory."

His revelation startled Vera. "But it isn't your guilt that is being purified."

Holmes gave her a wan smile. "It is the guilt of a son who could not protect his mother, who could not change his father."

"That's stupid." They stopped walking. She gazed at him seriously, frowning. "I can't believe that you're committing the same mistake as I had!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Blaming ourselves, trapping ourselves in webs of guilt and lies not of our own making. You asked me before: 'Why would you care to feel freedom if you did not care at all?'"

He took her small pale face in his hands. "You don't understand, Vera..."

"The point is 'freedom', Holmes! We are free from the sins of our parents...we should not feel guilty about them..." She encased his hands in hers. "I understand the trauma...it hurts and will always hurt, but carry no blame within yourself. For your sake and your brother's...including Grandmére."

He remained silent and thoughtful for a moment, then he laughed shakily. "It is never easy, but I will try. I thank you, Ms. Gale." He kissed her hands and paused.

A mutual revelation in eyes.

He quickly released her hands as if electrified.

The gesture embarrassed Vera, the telltale warmth flushing her cheeks. The tension was broken, and both had taken a glimpse beyond the grey area defining their friendship. "Let's go back inside."

"An excellent idea, Vera."

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_(A/N: Um, Merry Christmas? TS will continue in 2 weeks!)_


End file.
